


Sanguinem; Imperium

by deluxekyluxtrashcan (rhoen)



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015), Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Anal Fingering, Blow Jobs, Bottom Hux, Cutting, Dominant Armitage Hux, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Face-Fucking, Facials, Gentle Sex, Injury, Invasion of Privacy, Kissing, M/M, Neck Kissing, Obedience, Self-Harm, Snowballing, Submission, Submissive Kylo Ren, Top Kylo Ren
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-14
Updated: 2016-02-14
Packaged: 2018-05-20 09:27:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 15,710
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6000850
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rhoen/pseuds/deluxekyluxtrashcan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Kylo might have a different way of dealing with his own inner conflict and turmoil, but he can still recognise the signs of someone attempting to cope when he notices the crack in Hux's exterior.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sanguinem; Imperium

**Author's Note:**

  * For [pkabyssinian](https://archiveofourown.org/users/pkabyssinian/gifts).



> The title means blood; control. It seemed fitting, as that's why Hux does what he does. That's why he does pretty much everything...
> 
> The prompt was something to do with a razor, and 'maybe a little smut'. Well, a razor is featured, and there is a lot of smut. I can't explain myself any further than that. I didn't really mean to write most of this, but these two assholes... ugh.
> 
> Thank you to robinasnyder for picking over the first few thousand words, and to zombiebrainsoup too. I must say, though, the last part is un-beta'd, and was written rather hastily.
> 
> > **Do not translate or repost this fic without my permission.**. Ask if you'd like to translate it. Linking to it with a short snipped it okay though!

Kylo can sense it - a distracting scent, sweet and low amidst the people around him - and his pulse quickens as he realises that someone is bleeding. It’s something felt through the Force, rather than with any other sense, but it’s immediately disturbing. He does nothing to ignore it. Outwardly, no one is giving any sign of discomfort - whoever it is, they are concealing it - and he glances towards the three women in the room. Nothing. It’s someone else.

He stalks along the walkway, towards the transparisteel viewport that looks out over the _Finalizer_ from the command bridge, and reaches out with the Force as he does, trying to locate the source of the subtle disturbance in the room. Everyone is focused on their work, but now that he’s noticed it, Kylo can sense the imbalance; a creature wounded, seeping its lifeforce. Whoever they are, they’re not in danger of bleeding out, but there’s an uneasiness about it. Discomfort. Kylo can’t help his curiosity.

For several drawn-out minutes, Kylo stands still, focusing on everyone on the bridge in turn. He skims over focused minds and distracted moods, drifting between beings as gently as a leaf borne on a stream. The calmness that comes with feeling the warm thrum of life-forces around him is almost meditative, and he loses himself in the ease and comfort of it.

And then he runs into something cold. It’s jarring and uncomfortable, as it has always been. Hux’s mind isn’t one Kylo wants to touch. He recoils instinctively, not wanting to expose himself to something so icy and abrasive. Hux is a drain on him - a negative that strips away all the energy Kylo expends trying to read him - and he has no desire to worsen his mood by being any closer to the General than he absolutely has to be. He can’t push past the frigid barrier, and to try to do so exhausts him to the point of nausea, and then frustration, so Kylo has given up and simply hates the other man from a distance, finding his exterior as distasteful as the rest of the man must be. He’s an anomaly, and one that unsettles Kylo. The tight control and impenetrable aura seem unnatural. He’s never met anyone so tightly, coldly bound.

It’s only when he pulls away that Kylo realises that it’s Hux who’s bleeding. The unmistakable tang of it suffuses the bitter edges of the man’s being, staining it unmistakably. Curious, Kylo lets his focus wash over the other man again, ignoring his own discomfort as he searches for an opening, gently trying to push inside.

And there, on Hux’s left arm, Kylo zeroes in on the injury. It’s a tiny crack in Hux’s exterior where more than just blood seeps free of skin: Kylo catches a taste of something far more unsettling coming from within the other man, and recoils, finding his breath quickening and heart beating fast as he jerks his awareness away, retreating to the comfort of his own familiar presence. He feels shaken by the intensity of it. No, it’s not just that: it’s the turmoil he never expected. Within Hux, there’s a taste of hell, and it’s tearing at the other man so fiercely that Kylo is, for a moment, afraid. Yet, when he turns as if bored of his surroundings and lets his gaze cast over the General, he seems so calm and collected. He’s talking to one of his officers, his voice low and steady, giving no hint of the torment burning beneath his skin and eating away at his mind.

Kylo supposes he should be glad that Hux is losing his mind. He should rejoice at the inner collapse of a man he’s despised since first meeting him; he should welcome the other man’s fall, knowing that his own position can only be bettered in the wake of the other’s demise.

And yet…

He sweeps from the bridge, singularly focused in his distraction.

-

The panel comes away easily at the careful application of the tool Kylo has acquired. The crossguard of his lightsaber would have been far quicker and easier to use, but, for once, he’s concerned about keeping damage to a minimum. With the wiring exposed, it only take a matter of seconds before the doors slide open, and he’s in.

Hux’s quarters are similar to his own, which is unsurprising as they hold the highest positions on the ship and, therefore, have the best quarters. Kylo has never been in Hux’s rooms, but finds them a perfect mirror of the General: cold, sparse, and detached. All the colour seems to have been washed out, save for a crimson banner staining the wall. Kylo stares at the harsh black and red for a moment, before tearing his gaze away and inspecting the rest of the room. He leaves the hydrospanner on an unadorned table as he moves further into Hux’s quarters, taking in the impersonal feel to the space around him. There’s something unsettling about it: he knows Hux lives here, yet there’s so little of the man present. There’s nothing personal; nothing sentimental; nothing valuable. It’s barely functional: cold and utilitarian, devoid of expression or emotion.

A perfect mirror.

Kylo moves into the study, searching, as he did with Hux’s physical body, for a crack: a way in. Gloved hands smooth over the drawers of the desk, carefully prying them open, looking for a hint of the man he sensed. He finds only carefully stowed papers and stationery, everything neatly, meticulously arranged. He gently closes each drawer in turn when it yields nothing of value.

When Kylo enters the bedroom, he finds it almost sad. Instantly, he knows that this is the room in which Hux spends most of his time, but as he takes in the perfectly made bed, it’s cold, grey regulation-issue sheets, and pillow thinned by use, he can’t find anything that might indicate that someone regularly sleeps here, never mind a trace of anything personal. Even in the privacy of his own quarters Hux touches nothing. He leaves no trace of himself. The built-in wardrobe, which Kylo crosses to and opens, is meticulously organised, every item of clothing exactly where it should be, and he gently runs his fingers over the dark fabric of one of the General’s sleeves, the First Order insignia stark against the black. It’s the only thing of colour or meaning he can find in the desolate room, and he withdraws somewhat reluctantly, closing the wardrobe door with care.

When he pulls the drawer in the bedside table open, Kylo finds himself staring down at two items: a clock that should, by rights, be atop the table; and an expensive book bound in a leather so rare he doesn’t place it at first. He has only seen it once before, and when he recognises it he knows that the almost black, subtly purple skin belonged to a creature so rare it has become a legend. He picks the book up, curious, and inspects the title. Where others would keep a religious text, Hux keeps _Gloriae Imperium_ , its spine perfectly intact, the gold leaf edging untarnished. It seems untouched, as if never opened, and Kylo wonders if Hux perhaps knows it word-for-word already, learnt from a more worn copy, and only keeps this one as a talisman. He can’t help opening the book, gently prising the cover up to reveal a handwritten inscription on the first page, the rich ink dark, as if only just left there. Kylo reads it, uncertain as to how to feel.

_‘To my son,_  
_For the glory of the Empire is your birthright._  
_Carry our name proudly_  
_Your father,_  
_Brendol Hux’_

There’s an awkwardness to the neatly scribed words that makes Kylo’s gaze linger on them a moment longer than is needed, before he closes the book and carefully replaces it, wondering what that says about Brendol Hux as a man, as a father, and, subsequently, about his son. He soundlessly closes the drawer and moves on.

The refresher is another spartan affair. Every regulation product is neatly placed and carefully aligned, the surfaces immaculate. It’s like a display - an example - and when Kylo pulls open the medicine cupboard above the sink, he’s unsurprised to find the same regimental neatness within: minimal medicine and first aid kit neatly stowed, a comb free of any hair, gel considerately placed with its label outward-facing, a can shaving cream, and a razor resting just so next to… another razor.

There’s no reason for the duality.

Kylo stares that the two items, the realisation profound and unsettlingly cold. One is First Order issue - a safety razor almost identical to the one Kylo owns - but the other is far more unique. It’s old. The bone handle worn and smooth, but Kylo knows instinctively that the blade currently safely nestled in the handle is sharp. There’s something about it which catches his breath, and before he reaches out, he slides his hand free of its glove. There’s no reason whatsoever for him to do so, as he’d be able to sense the same thing regardless, but he lets his bare fingers tentatively curl around the unsettling item, touching something he knows Hux has touched, and recently.

The blade slides free easily, without even a whisper of protest, and Kylo stares at the keenly sharpened metal, looking for a trace of blood that isn’t there. He knew it wouldn’t be: like everything else in the General’s quarters, the razor has been meticulously cleaned and carefully returned to its designated position. There is nothing but an uneasy feeling in his gut to let Kylo know what it has been used for.

He shuts the cabinet and walks back into the bedroom, the razor still in hand.

-

Infuriating the General has always served a purpose - as amusement, to feed his own anger, or to attempt to belittle the man when he threatens to step out of Kylo’s reach - but this is different. Kylo has never done something he knows will anger the other man without the express intention of provoking him into an argument. For once, he doesn’t want that; not this time. It’s different, and Kylo’s almost annoyed that it is. There had never been any love lost between them, and they have little in common, save their hatred of each other and their desire to prove themselves more worthy than the other, but for some reason this matters. For some reason, Kylo sits on the wooden chair he’s dragged into the bedroom and waits, facing the bed, for Hux to respond to his message and come find him.

Hux’s reaction when he eventually enters is predictable. He stalks into the room, aura as frigid and uncomfortably icy as ever. Kylo braces himself for it.

“And just what,” Hux seethes, “do you think you are doing in my quarters?”

Beneath his clothing, Kylo can still sense that wound. It’s seeping into the fabric around it, marring the otherwise perfectly inhospitable barrier between Hux and the rest of the galaxy.

“I thought we might talk,” Kylo says casually. “Sit.”

Predictably, Hux doesn’t. He rounds on Kylo, drawing himself up to his full height, which Kylo has to admit is impressive, especially when he’s still seated. Something about Hux has always left him feeling cold and uncomfortable, pushing him out icily. The same thing is trying to force him away now, but he doesn’t let it. His resolve is stronger than anything Hux can throw at him.

“I will do no such thing,” Hux bites out, the clenching of his fists tight at his sides giving away just how infuriated he is. “Get out.”

“Not until we’ve talked.”

Despite the fact that Kylo is wearing the mask, Hux is doing an admirable job of staring him down unflinchingly.

“Quit this immature behaviour and remove yourself from my quarters. At once.”

Kylo doesn’t shift. He simply regards Hux, trying to work out how to get what he wants. He tries to remember if they’ve ever had a civil conversation, and how it came about so that he might replicate the situation, but nothing comes to him.

When the silence draws on for several more seconds, he sighs to himself and slowly opens his hand, revealing what he holds there. Even after having replaced his glove, the keenly honed razor still sits uncomfortably in his palm, a cold, disquieting weight against him. He’s relieved to see a startled shift in Hux’s countenance: something akin to surprise and horror gripping the other man.

“Sit,” Kylo orders again. Hux is not weak-minded enough to obey the forceful command, but he hesitates for a moment, wavering, before the reaction is quickly stifled. Hux doesn’t sit.

“So you’ve taken to rummaging through my personal belongings like a petulant child. Congratulations, this is a new low, even for you.”

Kylo bites back a snarl and tampers down the urge to rise to the provocation, knowing that he’s touched a nerve and Hux will do his utmost to aggravate and distract him.

“You don’t have any belongings, personal or otherwise,” he calmly points out. There are a grand total of two things in Hux’s entire quarters which weren’t issued to him by the First Order and won’t be returned to circulation after his death; Kylo is holding one of those things. “We need to talk.”

“My possessions are none of your concern.”

“No,” Kylo agrees, his attention fixed on Hux. “But you are.”

Hux is startled for a moment, clearly undermined by Kylo’s words, and he feels a sense of satisfaction that he can affect the other man so deeply, no matter how quickly the other tries to retreat back to the icy fortress he hides behind. Kylo doesn’t let him. His free hand darts out, wrapping around the injured, bleeding arm. He can feel the warmth of Hux’s lifeforce beneath the layers separating them, at odds with the frigid exterior he’s so familiar with, and he doesn’t let go - not even when Hux pales at the deliberate press of his fingers, the reaction torn free with almost sadistic satisfaction on Kylo’s part. He’s glad for the human reaction to pain. Hux doesn’t cry out in physical discomfort, despite the way what little colour he has drains from his face, but his distress is clear. Kylo has never known Hux to be afraid of anyone or anything, but in that moment he can sense Hux’s unease acutely. He is pressing in at the edge of a wound that runs far deeper than flesh, threatening to tear it open. That’s what Hux fears: being torn open and seen for who he truly is.

“Sit,” Kylo commands again.

This time, Hux obeys. Kylo slowly stands as the other man lowers himself slowly to the bed, his fingers still gripping Hux tightly, refusing to let go. There’s almost a fear that if he does he’ll lose his hold on Hux, and the fissure will ice over, sealing him out permanently. He doesn’t want that. There’s something about the other man he never wanted to know existed, but now that he does, he can’t help wanting to hold on.

Hux is clearly uncomfortable. He glares up at Kylo, furious, but there’s an uneasiness about him he’s not able to hide. Slowly, Kylo loosens his grip, reducing it to a gentle hold, his thumb tracing over the fabric above where Hux is wounded.

“You’re hurting,” he says simply.

“I can assure you it is nothing,” Hux dismisses icily, or at least tries to.

“You’re hurting,” Kylo repeats, the understanding carrying in his tone despite the vocal modulator. “I can feel it.”

Hux goes completely still, eyes wide. Kylo knows that the pain Hux feels runs far deeper and hurts so much more than any physical wound ever could, and he experiences something alarmingly close to compassion as he regards the man fighting to glare up at him, but not quite managing in the wake of such a debilitating blow. In that moment, Hux knows that Kylo has seen him, truly, despite his best efforts to keep him out. And for a moment Hux is too stunned to react.

“Stay here,” Kylo mutters, letting go. He doesn’t give Hux the opportunity to disobey him, and lets the Force wrap around and bind the General’s body, holding him still; immobile. He ignores the spike in fury and discomfort it triggers as he turns and walks away from the man, pocketing the razor as he heads into the ’fresher. He takes the first aid kit from its shelf in the medicine cabinet and walks slowly back through to where Hux sits, desperately struggling against his restraints.

“You don’t like being restrained, do you?” Kylo remarks pointlessly, and is rewarded with a seething glare. Hux refuses to make a sound, but as Kylo flicks away the bonds with a mere thought the General falls forwards slightly, his chest heaving.

“Don’t touch me,” he hisses as Kylo crouches in front of him. There’s something a little mad in Hux’s eyes, his expression wild with something approaching panic, but Kylo gives a dismissive snort, pretending that he doesn’t see Hux fighting to bring himself back under tight control and defend himself from Kylo’s discerning gaze, which Kylo subtly averts.

“Why, because you’re so practiced at applying bandages with one hand, and can do this all on your own?”

Hux starts winning back authority over his own emotions, although the edges are still more than a little frayed as he latches onto the familiar antagonistic dialogue Kylo offers him.

“I can do a far better job of it than your inept fumbling will ever achieve.”

“Says a man whose field experience is nothing more than surveying a location on a map.”

“I have had experience.”

Kylo snorts, dismissive of what Hux considers experience. Simulators, to him, are a mere toy, and there is no substitute for the real thing, no matter how intricate the fantasy. His and Hux’s opinions differ on the matter, and they both know this. Kylo lets Hux have this one.

“So, are you going to let me help, or just bleed all over your uniform?”

Hux is silent for a moment, his gaze fixed on Kylo’s mask and approaching the level of cold detachedness Kylo expects of him.

“I can do it myself.”

“I know,” Kylo agrees softly. “But you don’t have to.”

Hux’s eyes widen in surprise again. He clearly doesn’t expect consideration or compassion from Kylo. Perhaps he doesn’t expect it from anyone.

“You’re laughing at me,” Hux decides. Kylo doesn’t think it’s a particularly smart conclusion for Hux to have reached, but as he crouches there, thinking about their current situation, he realises that Hux probably feels vulnerable now that Kylo has read him and invaded his privacy: he expects to be mocked.

“I’m not,” Kylo breathes, looking down. He places the first aid kit on the floor, close to Hux’s highly polished boot, and brings his hands up carefully, finding and working the release for his helmet. As it comes away, he feels cool air against his skin, a contrast to the familiar warmth of his own breath that even the most advanced of helmets cannot nullify. He feels exposed as he looks up, meeting Hux’s gaze directly for the first time.

“I’m really not.”

It seemed fair, to Kylo, that he should remove his mask and allow Hux to see something more of himself - after all, he’s seen something of Hux that Hux wanted to keep hidden - but he questions that decision now. He hadn’t anticipated the way Hux would react, stiffening and… simply staring, stunned.

Unpracticed at concealing his thoughts and emotions, and feeling worryingly like he might flush under the scrutiny, Kylo looks down, placing his helmet off to the side and picking up the first aid kit. He wants to hide himself again, and it’s difficult to force his fingers to dig out what he needs from the kit when he’s itching to reach for his helmet. He can feel Hux’s gaze still on him as he huffs in annoyance, bringing his right hand to his mouth and tugging the glove off with his teeth, making it easier to manipulate the items he intends to use. If Hux will let him. Steadying himself, Kylo meets Hux’s gaze again, trying to harden his own expression and not let the way he’s being stared at unsettle him. Hux has yet to show anything other than surprise - it’s clear he’s shocked by Kylo’s appearance - but even without being able to penetrate Hux’s thoughts, Kylo knows what he’s thinking.

“You prefer to think of me as a monster.”

That’s always the truth of it. Kylo doesn’t even care. He simply uses Hux’s current complacency to rearrange himself on the floor, kneeling and moving further into Hux’s personal space.

“Take your jacket off.”

“You’re…” Hux says distractedly. Kylo’s focus has fallen to the bandage and steri-wrapped gauze pad in his hand, but he looks up, waiting for Hux to finish. He can’t help noticing the colour of Hux’s eyes as he does: they’re a green so cold they could be mistaken for blue; unique and so utterly Hux that Kylo is mesmerised for a moment. It’s almost as if Hux’s eyes shifted to mimic the man, and Kylo feels lost as he suddenly remembers that he’s supposed to hate this frigid, intolerable man who despises him in return. For a moment, he almost admires him.

“Can you at least push your sleeves up?” Kylo hears himself asking, his own voice strange to his ears and far rougher than he meant it to be.

“Why are you doing this?”

“Doing what?”

There are a lot of things Kylo is doing right now that he doesn’t quite understand, so he waits for Hux to clarify before he considers any answer he might give. Hux says nothing further, but from the way he’s looking at Kylo it’s clear which word goes unspoken: caring.

Hux won’t say it, and Kylo won’t deny the accusation until it has been made. He rejects the notion that he’s caring, even though he knows that that’s exactly what he’s doing.

“Just… push your sleeves up.”

Kylo is tired of waiting, of trying to circumvent the barrier Hux puts in place, but it’s decidedly less exhausting being close to him physically than it is to approach his mind. He realises that he’s stopped trying to push against Hux, and simply exists next to the other man, contained within himself, and it’s oddly calming. Hux is still very much there - a cold, impenetrable barrier - but waiting for the other man to open up almost relaxes him. He can see Hux carefully considering each action and its outcomes, letting his thoughts sweep over the possibilities open to him, and what letting Kylo in might actually mean. Kylo’s aware of the scrutiny he’s undergoing, but he holds himself still for just that little bit longer, ignoring his own impatience.

Eventually, and luckily for Kylo’s increasingly pained knees, it seems like Hux has reached the conclusion that it won’t be the end of the world to allow Kylo to help, because he slowly looks away from Kylo for the first time since Kylo removed his mask, and focuses on the hem of his uniform sleeve.

“I think I’ll have to take it off.”

It’s a practical observation - the tailoring of Hux’s uniform is immaculate, and won’t rise far up his forearm before becoming too tight - and once it’s made, Hux tug off his gloves and starts unfastening the jacket. He starts at the collar, unhooking the overlaying material the keeps it closed, and Kylo’s attention is drawn to the small expanse of skin that would on anyone else be trivial, but on Hux seems somehow intimate. He feels like he shouldn’t be allowed to see it. The shirt beneath, which is slowly revealed, is made of a light, soft-looking material that has creased slightly in the space between Hux’s jacket and his skin. Kylo looks away after the first two inches are revealed and before any further fastenings are undone, focusing on the pain in his knees rather than the feeling that he’s witnessing something private.

Above him, Hux gives a soft snort, not stopping in his actions. It’s easy for Kylo to tell that his left arm pains him as he moves it, but Hux is adamantly ignoring it.

“Are you shy?”

Hux sounds like he’s smirking as he says it, and Kylo feels a flicker of frustration. He almost doesn’t dignify the question with an answer, but decides to allow themselves this: a mimicry of normalcy.

“Just because you’ve never seen another being naked doesn’t mean the rest of us haven’t,” he snaps, trying to make his voice as terse and irritated as it usually is, and failing. He wishes he hadn’t removed his mask.

“Spoken like a true adolescent,” Hux quips. Kylo leans back, away from the other man as the jacket is fully undone and Hux starts drawing it from his slender frame, and busies himself by digging out an extra bandage clip from the first aid kit. He’s acutely aware of the suppressed warmth of Hux’s body so close to his own, and of the man he’s never seen so exposed. He’s almost afraid to look now, as if seeing Hux stripped of one, albeit small, layer of defence will cause something irreversible to happen.

“Spoken like someone jealous of others’ experience,” Kylo remembers to bite back, letting immature words fill the space between them, as if he can build a barrier and protect himself from the increasingly uncomfortable realisation that Hux is just as unsettled as he is. The crack in Hux’s defense is widening, more of his tightly-bound self spilling free. It’s not much - just a vague impression of feelings and a distant whisper of thoughts - but for Hux, it’s profound. Kylo deliberately doesn’t look closely, pushing his attention elsewhere.

“Why, do you think there’s something you - Master of the Knights of Ren - could teach me about procreation?”

It’s said with scorn, and Kylo hears the tone but it barely registers. The words glance off of his skin as he lifts his gaze, his focus zeroing in on Hux’s arm.

Despite being used to violence, there’s something deeply unsettling about the stained bandage that has been revealed, and the cold deliberacy of it. Hux hasn’t even finished setting his jacket aside, but Kylo’s attention if fixed on the wound, something within him tightening. It seems so wrong, and as he reaches out, he dimly realises that Hux has noticed his reaction, but he’s too taken aback to care.

Still-gloved fingers gently take Hux’s arm, holding it lightly in his left hand while Kylo reaches out and blindly places the bundle of gauze, clips and bandaging on the mattress beside Hux. The top of the poorly wrapped bandage - which is actually passable for something done one-handed, Kylo will admit - has been disturbed by the movement of Hux’s clothes, and has started to come undone. Kylo’s bare fingers take the loose end, and he tries not to grit his teeth as he notices the silver line of a scar barely concealed by the fabric.

Kylo forgets that Hux has even spoken to him, or is staring down at him, as he slowly removes the bandage. There’s no reason to roll it up as he goes, but he does anyway, perhaps out of respect for Hux’s desire to have everything done neatly and carefully. He’s acutely aware of just who it is he’s kneeling before and helping, seeing in such a vulnerable position. When the first of the neat little incisions is revealed, Kylo bites back a whimper of frustration, hurt by the sight of the wound and the littering of neat scars which mar the otherwise perfect skin. It feels unjust. The rest of the bandage is removed with much less care as Kylo tugs it away, his only consideration for the cuts and how the action might hurt Hux, not for how the material lands when he drops it carelessly on the floor.

When the bloodied mess is fully revealed to him, Kylo simply stares at it for a moment, overwhelmed. He puts his unease down to being so focused on the source of pain, but there’s a rising, burning desire to lean in and to sooth Hux’s wounds with his own touch, pressing a kiss to the carefully ruined skin in a feeble attempt to banish the suffering Kylo knows Hux endures. He can feel it. He’s acutely aware of the conflict and the desperation that caused Hux to do this, and it makes him want to lash out at everything around him, reacting to his own demons in the only way he knows how. Hux’s method of coping is alien to him, and although Kylo can understand it, he hates it. There are several neat cuts laddering Hux’s arm, and three of them are deep enough to still be bleeding, made worse by Kylo grabbing at and digging into them earlier. He’s sorry he did that.

“I’ll get something to clean it up a bit,” he says, his voice tight.

“There are towels- ”

“In the cupboard next to the shower, I know,” Kylo cuts in, finding Hux’s voice oddly vulnerable. There’s a cracked quality to it: the General is clearly trying to maintain a cold, authoritative edge, but is too disquieted to manage. They both pretend not to notice, and Kylo carefully avoids looking at Hux as he stands, allowing himself to focus on the pain from kneeling for so long on such a hard floor. It’s something he can endure easily, but the physical discomfort is a welcome relief from the uneasiness in the spartan bedroom.

Kylo takes two towels, removing his remaining glove so he can wet one of the thin standard issue items thoroughly, and then makes his way back to Hux, hesitating for a moment as he stands before the other man.

“Am I okay here?” he asks, gaze down and focused on Hux’s flared breeches rather than the man’s face. Hux isn’t looking at him either, and seems to be studying the floor, but Kylo still catches the fact that he nods.

“Yes.”

With that as permission, Kylo kneels again. He could have sat beside Hux on the bed, but it feels more appropriate like this: to be lower than Hux while he’s witnessing the other’s vulnerability, and in a position that allows Hux to study him openly if he so wishes. Kylo doesn’t look up. His focus is on the ruined arm now back in his hold. As firmly as he can press without causing undue discomfort, he wipes the skin clean, the damp towel coming away more and more stained with each deliberate swipe. Within a minute he’s done, and the only blood left is that which still seeps unavoidably from the wounds.

Kylo makes a mess of try dry towel too, as he lightly pats Hux’s skin dry. There is a tube of antibacterial healing salve in the first aid kit, and he fetches it, diligently applying only as much as is needed and firmly ignoring the signs of discomfort from Hux when the slick liquid makes contact with broken skin. He knows it’s just a physical reaction, and one Hux doesn’t want anyone to ever see, but something about him is tired, as if he’s weary of holding himself together. Hux can’t stifle reactions that would normally be easy to conceal, and Kylo respectfully pretends he hasn’t noticed them.

Before applying the gauze pads - he needs two to cover the extent of Hux’s cuts - Kylo looks at the handiwork before him, both Hux’s and his own. The earlier urge to kiss the wounds is still there, smouldering quietly until Kylo focuses on it. He closes his eyes, sighing, knowing he can’t give in to the foolish urge. It has no place and serves no purpose in a situation like this.

“Why are you doing this?”

This time, Kylo doesn’t dismiss the question. His focus is back on the gauze pad he’s currently placing - shiny side down - over the uppermost cuts, and he blinks as he carefully smooths the material down.

“Would it be enough for me to say that I understand?”

It seems like enough. Hux is quiet, retreating into his own discomfort, although his hand comes to rest on the pad and hold it in place while Kylo places the second. When it comes to the bandage, Kylo wraps it firmly around Hux’s arm, careful that it’s not too tight. He takes his time, moving slower than he needs to, and pays careful attention to the way the fabric lies, pausing to smooth out any rucks that appear. In any other situation, he’d apply the dressing as hastily and sloppily as he could get away with, knowing it would irk the other man and get under his skin, but Kylo wants to soothe Hux, not aggravate him, and he hopes that the deliberate care in his actions translates favourably. He knows that Hux is still watching him, and can feel that piercing gaze on him. Only, it doesn’t feel as penetrating as usual, as if something about Hux has softened.

Kylo should know better than to push his luck, but as he holds the end of the bandage in one hand and takes one of the clips in the other, he can’t help opening his mouth.

“Why did you do it?”

He half expects to be kicked, or punched, and for Hux to stiffen and pull away, flaying him for asking such an impertinent question, and for abusing the apparent lull between them. The very last thing he expects is for Hux to actually answer him.

“Control.”

The answer is so simple, and so freely given, that Kylo has to concentrate inordinately hard on positioning the second clip, concealing his surprise, and then his unease. Of course Hux would do it for control. In part, Kylo already understood that: when faced with conflict and turmoil, Hux turns to the one thing he craves in all things. Everything about him is perfect and precise, and even an act of violence against his own person is as deliberately calculated as everything else the man ever does. His display of desperation is so carefully controlled and concealed, and so intensely private, that Kylo knows no one else has seen Hux like this. No one else has ever noticed or cared enough to take the man aside and clean and bandage his wounds, or ask him why he did it.

“There are other ways to feel in control,” Kylo says quietly, aware of the fact that his words are probably unwelcome. Hux snorts derisively, and Kylo slowly pulls his hands back, having finished fastening the dressing.

“Such as lashing out at everything around me?” Hux sneers. Kylo doesn’t have to look to know the way Hux is looking at him, but lifts his gaze anyway, steeling himself for the contemptuous look Hux is giving him in a desperate attempt to break whatever understanding might have passed between them.

“That’s not…”

The words die on his lips. Kylo knows that his insistence that their reactions aren’t the same is a lie, and neither of them will believe it. He doesn’t wanted to talk about his own issues.

Hux is looking at Kylo strangely, a layer of defence having been torn away. He’s still desperately trying to claw back and cling to the walls of defence he’s probably been building up his whole life, but as he looks at Kylo, Kylo can see him struggling. For a moment, he wonders if the human desire for closeness and companionship still exists in Hux, how deeply buried it might be. He thinks about the turmoil tightly contained within the other man, and Hux’s desperate attempts to bring it under control, along with everything else in the Galaxy. He thinks about the way the other man lives, so cut off from everyone and everything that he doesn’t allow his thoughts or feeling so show, or a flicker of his personality to be reflected in his rooms. He thinks about Hux, and how human he seems, and about the fact that, really, he isn’t that unlikeable.

“You want control?” Kylo asks gently, not wanting to provoke the other man. He holds Hux’s gaze carefully, afraid of pushing too hard in the wrong direction and ruining whatever it is he’s found in the other man. Hux seems curious, almost, about what Kylo will say, and holds himself perfectly still, looking silently down at Kylo.

“Control me.”

Kylo doesn’t look away or flinch as he makes the offer, despite Hux’s reaction. The General’s eyes widen at Kylo’s words, surprise evident in the way his body stiffens, tensing, and the way his breath catches in his throat. Whatever he expected, it clearly wasn’t that. It’s too late to take the words back, but Kylo doesn’t particularly want to.

“You’re serious?” Hux asks, incredulous. Kylo can’t really blame him.

“Isn’t it something you want?”

Hux laughs, the sounds strange and unnatural. Kylo knows it’s something Hux wants - from the day he stepped aboard the _Finalizer_ Hux has been desperate to have him under his command - but it’s clear Hux can’t quite believe Kylo is offering it so freely. He maybe still thinks Kylo is mocking him.

“Here,” Kylo continues, pressing the matter. “Right now. You can command me.”

It’s a stupid offer to make, really, and Kylo starts to feel every bit the fool as Hux’s laughter stops, his gaze falling, cold and calculating, to pierce through Kylo. His mood twists into something chilling at Kylo’s words, and it takes more effort than it should for Kylo not to shift and squirm away from the attention he’s now not sure he can endure. A moment ago he hadn’t minded the thought of this, but Hux’s shift unnerves him.

Hux moves forwards, leaning close to Kylo in a way that would cause a lesser man to cower. Kylo doesn’t flinch, holding the icy gaze Hux levels at him as evenly as he can, but he feels acutely uncomfortable. Hux is making his presence as unwelcoming, intimidating and venomous as possible.

“And why,” Hux breathes, his tone dripping with malice, “would I want anything to do with you?”

Kylo says nothing, knowing that Hux has always wanted to best him; to stand over him and give commands that will be obeyed to the letter. He should have expected Hux to react like this. He should have expected it. A cool, slender hand comes to his face, fingers and thumbs pressing sadistically against his cheeks and pressing in unkindly. Kylo does his utmost not to pull away or break eye contact, despite the fact that Hux’s eyes are cruel and cold, and he’s desperate to look elsewhere. He didn’t want this. He had been foolish to hope that Hux wouldn’t take his offer to help and turn it into a chance to vent his fury upon him. He thought that the kindness he’d shown Hux would have earnt him a little more respect than that.

But as quickly as the cruel touch came, it fades, until Hux’s fingers merely rest against Kylo’s skin, almost gently. The pain lingers, though, the inside of Kylo’s cheek bleeding where it has cut against his teeth, but Kylo doesn’t quite notice, the physical discomfort registering in some distant part of his mind which isn’t currently taken up with the way Hux is looking at him.

His expression has shifted. The hard edge is completely gone, washed away with alarming speed and replaced with something oddly approaching warmth, and definitely sadness - perhaps even longing. Kylo hadn’t expected it, and there’s suddenly too much to try and read in the way Hux looks at him. His breath catches in his throat as Hux leans in even closer, bending down and bringing his lips almost to Kylo’s, his gaze lowered. For one of the most dizzying moments of his life, Kylo waits like that, the warmth so close he can feel it, and the soft ghost of Hux’s breath on his lips.

And then Hux kisses him.

Kylo can’t help stiffening in surprise, the noise he chokes back coming out as a strangled cry. Hux doesn’t seem to notice, or care, and takes just as long as he wants, holding the contact for a moment longer before retreating. When he opens his eyes, they seemed so much more alive, the green all the richer for the blush dusting Hux’s cheeks. Kylo hadn’t known Hux could blush like that.

Yet, the realisation that Hux can switch at any moment leaves Kylo uneasy, and unable to appreciate what he is now seeing. He wonders if the coldness and cruelty might return, and what he might do that would inadvertently trigger it.

“I won’t hurt you,” Hux says, the softness of his voice and gentle gaze making it feel like a promise. His hand is still on Kylo’s cheek, and he strokes him lightly, almost tenderly. Kylo isn’t sure which way is up.

“What do you want?” he dares to ask. He is grateful when Hux’s mood doesn’t shift at the question. Hux actually seems to be considering him, taking in the man kneeling before him as he thinks his answer over.

“Control,” Hux says at last. “And then I want you to take it away again.”

The words cause Kylo’s breath catch in his throat as he understands the meaning behind them. He can feel it now, somewhere behind the barriers Hux isn’t defending as fiercely as he always did: desire. Desire for him.

He doesn’t have the energy to laugh at the irony, or the relief of it.

“Why?”

“You’re the first person to have ever cared,” Hux admits.

Kylo hates that he knew it to be the truth before Hux even answered. He doesn’t have anything to say in response, and swallows thickly, his attention slipping lower. His eyes come to rest on that lightly crumpled shirt for a second, warmth heating his cheeks as he realises just how thin it is, and just how close Hux’s slender body is beneath it. It’s hard to take Hux in as a whole. Like this, he’s easier to deal with in parts: the bandaged wound; the slender torso rising and falling steadily; the starched military breeches and immaculate boots; the pale skin of his neck that flutters with a too-quick pulse; and that gaze which no longer falls on Kylo coldly. The perfect image that is General Hux doesn’t quite hold together without the immaculate uniform or the frigid demeanour to keep it in place, and Kylo finds someone new starting to show through the cracks. He sees someone human, and wonders how many other people have looked and witnessed the same thing. Probably none.

“What do you want me to do?”

As he asks, Kylo tentatively moves his hand to rest on Hux’s thigh, just above his knee. His doesn't ask begrudgingly, or because he feels it’s expected of him, but out of willingness. He wants Hux to understand what he’s offering, and even though Hux has alluded to what he wanted from Kylo, the action has the advantage of putting Kylo at a disadvantage: Hux can pull away and ridicule him for his advance if he so chooses.

Hux doesn’t.

“Will you really obey if I give an order?”

Kylo nods. “Here, now: yes.”

“Anything I say?”

Kylo stops short, his mind racing over the possibilities. Does he trust this man? Hux could turn cruel again, and demand something of Kylo that Kylo doesn’t really want to give but will do anyway because of his answer right now. He’s aware of what’s at stake in this moment: he offers himself in his entirety, or not at all. He has to trust that Hux understand that too, and won’t abuse the power Kylo gives him.

Kylo looks up at Hux, feeling himself shiver slightly as he realises what he’s about to offer up. His voice, when he gives the simple answer, trembles slightly.

“Anything.”

Hux lets out a breath, his hand coming to stroke Kylo’s cheek again. He seems relieved, grateful for Kylo’s answer.

“Kiss me?”

It’s supposed to be a command, but the uncertain edge to Hux’s voice turns it into a question, as if he’s unsure of what he’s asking for, or that Kylo will do it. It’s so oddly human, and Kylo takes a moment to look at the way Hux is regarding him, his defences pulled as high as he can manage. It’s not enough though, and the slightly fearful way Hux looks at him softens something in Kylo. Hux isn’t used to being at a disadvantage. He hates it. But he’s put himself there by asking for this, opening himself up to ridicule.

Kylo can see no reason not to do as Hux asks. He doesn’t even consider laughing at the request, and he’s barely finished his assessment of the man’s uncertainty before he starts to move upwards, eyes falling closed the moment before his lips press against Hux’s. The pressure is too light, too careful, but as Kylo leans in to strengthen it, the pain in his knee suddenly worsens acutely, sending a stab of discomfort through him. He doesn’t bite back the involuntary gasp in time, and harshly berates himself for the lack of discipline and control as he refocuses on the kiss, letting his lips part gently, testing what Hux wants.

And Hux… Hux trembles slightly, moaning softly in answer to Kylo’s gasp, not realising it was born of pain. He meets Kylo’s parted lips eagerly, hands coming to Kylo’s face and brushing over his cheeks, fingers threading into his hair as he dominates the kiss, his tongue licking into Kylo’s mouth as he uses his advantage in position to lean over Kylo, forcing him back down. Kylo doesn’t particularly mind; he can feel the way Hux is reacting to what Kylo allows him to take, and the relief is sweet and soft in the air around them. Hux kisses much like he speaks, with sharp, calculated movements, but it’s not unpleasant, and Kylo kisses back warmly, refusing to be entirely passive but never pushing enough to take control. Hux seems to like that, and his fingers stroke gently through Kylo’s hair, a soft noise of appreciation escaping him as Kylo’s tongue teases over his own. When Hux’s grip tightens, tugging at a handful of hair, Kylo gives a low moan, encouraging. Hux huffs in response, air gusting across Kylo’s cheek, and a moment later he’s pulling back. Kylo can’t help trying to lean after the contact, but he’s held in place.

Hux’s eyes have changed again. His whole countenance is new to Kylo, and it sends a shiver of excitement through him to see the subtly wrecked edge to the no longer quite so stoic, reserved man. Hux’s cheeks are lightly flushed, and his breathing is much faster than it needs to be, his chest rising and falling as if he’s just raced the length of the _Finalizer_ at a brisk pace. He’s looking at Kylo as if he can’t quite believe what just happened, and his expression is one of wonder as his hands move from Kylo’s hair to his cheek, gently stroking him again, before his thumb traces over Kylo’s lower lip.

“Kylo Ren,” Hux murmurs, seeming fascinated by the man he has kneeling before him. Kylo lets his tongue flicker out to meet Hux’s thumb in answer, swiping across the soft skin and looking up to catch Hux’s reaction. It’s clear from the way Hux colours that the move is well received, and, emboldened, Kylo sucks the digit into his mouth, his tongue lazily tracing over lightly fragranced skin. He dimly realises that Hux must use moisturiser, but most of his attention is on the reserved sounds his action is drawing from the other man, and the way Hux’s eyes flutter closed for the briefest of moments before he focuses on Kylo again, his expression reverent. This kind of pleasure seems new to Hux, as if he didn’t know it was something he could have. Kylo wants to give it to him.

Hux pulls his hand back gently, and Kylo relinquishes it with some reluctance.

“Move back.”

Hux’s voice is as undermined as the rest of him, the command catching in Hux’s throat, roughening the authoritative effect. Kylo doesn’t think it ruins it, though. He does as Hux instructs, happy to do whatever is asked of him in that tone and with Hux looking down at him like that. The man slowly standing as Kylo scoots back to give him space is a man Kylo wants to connect with. There’s something new to this, which is separate from the way they’ve always acted around each other, and he wants to explore it. He wants to trust Hux and, in doing so, help the man. He can tell Hux needs this. He wants to give himself over in a show of understanding and solidarity of what the other man suffers, and let his submission and openness be an unspoken promise that the vulnerability Hux has shown him isn’t something he’ll use against the other man. It’s something he reveres, even. He offers himself in exchange, in understanding, and in support.

Kylo also wants to show his appreciation for the fact that he might not be as peerless and alone as he originally thought he was, and when Hux gives up fumbling with his own clothes, he gets his chance.

“You do it,” Hux commands.

Ignoring the pain in his knees is far easier when Kylo has something to focus on. His hands rise to Hux’s thighs, pressing against and messing up the stiff flared fabric as he presses his face close to Hux’s crotch, nuzzling against the warm swell he can feel still hardening within the confines of Hux’s clothes. Simply moving his hands to the zipper and freeing Hux of his breeches and underwear would have felt too clinical, and wouldn’t give Kylo a chance to show his willingness for this. He can tell Hux is beginning to thrive on it - on the control he has over Kylo, and the attention Kylo lavishes on him willingly - and as fingers push into Kylo’s hair again and he tightens his grip in appreciation, Kylo wants to murmur encouragement, urging Hux to demand more of him.

Hux doesn’t demand anything of him, though. Giving a soft sigh as he enjoys the warmth and rich fabric against his skin, Kylo is the one who moves forwards, letting his hands move higher, finally fulfilling the command. The garment opens easily, and Kylo pushes it out the way so he can grab the waistband of Hux’s underwear, drawing it down and until he’s exposed Hux’s hardening cock. It looks soft and warm, pale skin slightly pink and framed by hair as bright as that on Hux’s head. Kylo licks and bites his lower lip, wanting to press forwards and feel that skin against his own. He doesn’t. Instead, he looks up to Hux, who clearly hasn’t missed a thing. He regards Kylo with something perhaps close to awe, but the most important thing Kylo reads from the other man is how he feels.

Hux feels powerful. _Good_ , Kylo thinks, pressing his lips together as he keeps looking up.

He waits for the command.

“Open your mouth.”

Kylo has never been good at following orders. He’s always thought it weak and foolish to unquestioningly follow an inferior being, and to him there is nothing more distasteful that blind obedience. Authority has to be earned. He will never bend at the knee for someone weaker than himself. And yet, he’s kneeling before Hux. He’s kneeling before Hux and pressing his hands against the other man’s thighs, looking up and liking what he sees. He’s looking up at Hux and not thinking about Hux’s weakness, but about his need: the need for order and control; his need to command everything around him; his need to be more powerful than the conflict burning within him. And Kylo understands that. He lets Hux have what he needs.

He doesn’t look away as he parts his lips, letting Hux see his obedience. His tongue pushes forward slightly over his lower lip. When Hux does nothing to stop or command him otherwise, Kylo leans forward and licks at Hux’s cock, the silken skin warm and heavy against his tongue. It’s oddly pleasant, and the way Hux’s body stiffens, his cock twitching at the contact, makes it all the more delightful. Kylo repeats the action, his fingers pressing into the soft skin of Hux’s thighs as he tastes more of the other man, and after another lick he lets his lips close around the head, sucking lightly and letting his tongue stroke the sensitive skin wetly. The soft gasp Hux gives sounds restrained, as if he hadn’t intended to make any noise at all, and the sound of it warms Kylo’s blood, arousal pooling low in his stomach as he endeavours to draw that noise from Hux again. The feel of a cock in his mouth is strange, but Kylo can guess what feels good and focuses on that, pulling his mouth off so he can lean in and draw his tongue broadly over the underside, from base to tip, feeling the subtle ridges of veins just beneath the surface. Hux’s breathing has quickened, and as Kylo takes him in his mouth again, a hand pushes into his hair, loosely gripping at a handful of it. This time Kylo sucks a little harder, sliding his lips lower to accommodate more of Hux’s length, and as his tongue teases over and traces the frenulum, Hux’s breath hitches again, a low, breathy moan escaping him. The fingers in his hair tighten, and Kylo repeats the action just to make sure he’s learnt it. The muscles in Hux’s thighs tremble beneath his fingers, Hux fighting to restrain his response, and there’s an echoing twitch in his own pants and Kylo’s cock reacts to the rush of having this much power over the other man.

It’s when Hux starts to thrust, both hands now in Kylo’s hair, that Kylo starts to struggle. At first it’s just a shallow push and drag, as if Hux is experimenting with the movement, and Kylo finds the rhythm easy to cope with and rather pleasurable, but as Hux becomes more confident Kylo finds it harder to manage. His own hands are still on Hux’s thighs, and he fights back the instinct to dig his fingers in and push Hux away when the feeling of having his mouth filled becomes too much. He’s not in control, and wants to pull away so that Hux can’t push as deeply into his mouth, making it feel like he’s going to gag. He’s aware of the way Hux’s control has slipped just a fraction more, his breathing coming quickly and leaving him in soft grunts as he thrusts into Kylo’s mouth, but his own discomfort is becoming increasingly distracting.

“Use your tongue,” Hux bites out, making Kylo realise he’s gone almost completely still, letting Hux simply fuck his mouth. He doesn’t know how to comply, and gives a small, rather pathetic noise as he tries to obey but finds it too much - a small movement, pressing against the underside of Hux’s cock, is the best he can manage, but it’s uncomfortable and overwhelming. He closes his eyes tight, willing himself to endure it for just a few minutes longer.

A hand loosens its grip on his hair, Hux’s pace faltering for a moment and then changing as Kylo’s wrist is firmly grasped and guided to the base of Hux’s cock. Kylo is caught by surprise, having expected admonishment, and then relief, as he realises that wrapping his hand around the base means Hux’s thrusts are far shallower in his mouth, and much easier to bear. He gives a soft noise of appreciation, wondering for a moment if the move was out of consideration or practicality. There’s not much can be done for the pain in his knees or the growing ache in his jaw, but the experience is no longer threatening to become overwhelming. And, like this, Kylo can fold his tongue back in his mouth, giving Hux something to thrust against. With careful movements, he can tease the frenulum again, drawing something that sounds like almost a whimper from Hux’s throat. It makes his own body respond, and the discomfort from the position he’s in and the unfamiliar way his mouth is being used is easy to ignore.

Kylo can feel Hux being wound tighter and tighter, and enjoys Hux’s increasingly rapid breathing and the way his fingers grip harder at Kylo’s hair, the muscles of his thigh tensing beneath Kylo’s hand. The strange, salty, almost bitter taste of precum takes a moment to register, and Kylo flushes as he realises what how this is going to conclude. Of course he knows that what he’s doing will lead to Hux cumming, but it is one thing to know rationally, in some part of his mind, that it will happen, and completely another to taste the forewarning on his tongue.

He’s a little startled when Hux abruptly pulls back, his hand knocking Kylo’s away so he can take himself in hand and reach completion. Kylo, lips feeling swollen and tongue aching, can do little more than look up at Hux, taking in the sight of the man above him. His cock twitches in interest again, finding everything about Hux’s countenance to be pleasing. Hux holds himself so tightly, even when close to release, but the way his chest heaves and his hand moves frantically over his own length betrays him, the flutter of his pulse strong at his neck and a warm blush creeping from beneath that thin shirt and staining up over his cheeks. One hand is still loosely tangled in Kylo’s hair, and Hux struggles to keep his eyes open and look down at Kylo, obviously losing himself to the pleasure rising within him. Kylo flushes even more at that, lifting his jaw and leaning in, parting his lips and making an offering of his mouth. His heart beats frantically at his own boldness, shame threatening to grip him, but is instead filled with a warm rush when Hux falters, undone by Kylo’s action. Hux gives a choked noise, his whole body trembling as he starts to cum. Warmth splashes over Kylo’s face, the first of it hitting his cheek and eyebrow, forcing him to close his eyes despite his desire to watch every moment of this. More cum spills onto his skin, some catching his lip and landing in his mouth, and he tries not to shiver at the feeling of Hux’s release being painted across his face. He keeps still, face upturned and mouth parted, his tongue quivering, holding the salty taste, until Hux is done, the last of his pleasure leaving him with a choppy exhale.

Kyo opens his eyes at the same time he closes his mouth, wanting to take in the man above him, but Hux’s attention suddenly shifts, fixing on Kylo urgently.

“No! Don’t swallow!”

Kylo stills, unsure of what to do. He supposes that means Hux wants him to spit, but even though there’s not much cum in his mouth, most of it having landed on his face, Kylo doesn’t think he should spit it out on the floor.

“Stand,” Hux orders, his voice a little shaky. Holding the strange taste in his mouth, Kylo does as instructed, his knees sore and his cock pressing uncomfortably against the seam of his pants. He’s only a fraction taller than Hux, but does nothing to use that to his advantage or to dominate the space. He simply waits, wondering what Hux wants of him.

He’s startled when, tentatively, Hux leans towards him, his jaw angled just so. For a kiss. He wants Kylo to kiss him.

For a moment Kylo can’t quite process what is happening. Hux has to know that he still has his cu--

 _Oh_.

Kylo wants to give Hux what he’s asking for in a rush - to meet him full-on - but makes himself move slowly, what little distance there was between them disappearing carefully, until Hux’s lips are on his own, gently parted in askance. It’s left to Kylo to deepen the kiss, pressing his tongue into Hux’s willing mouth and letting the General taste himself. Kylo’s arms wrap strongly around the trembling man, and Hux actually shivers, going weak at the knees, and gasps into the kiss, his hands coming up to claw at Kylo’s back and find purchase against the fabric. He moans needily, shifting into something else at the kiss, willingly at Kylo’s mercy. It causes a feeling akin to possessiveness to surge through Kylo, and his hand runs down over Hux’s back, fingers finding and lifting the hem of that thin shirts so he can press against Hux’s skin and hold him close.

He understands what Hux wants, and what Hux needs. He understands the true meaning of release for him, and the rare, fragile thing he holds in his arms. It’s not an opportunity he will waste.

It doesn’t take much to lower them to the bed, Kylo’s mouth on Hux’s until they’re lying side by side, Kylo having paused his exploration of Hux’s body to carelessly shove the empty steri-wraps out of the way. He draws Hux’s arms from around him, hands firm but gentle at Hux’s wrists, and raises the slender, pale limbs to a point above Hux’s head, pinning them there against the worn pillow as he looks down at the alarmingly exposed man beneath him. Hux is still flushed, the redness on his cheeks bringing out a beautiful shade of green in his eyes, and his chest rises and falls rapidly beneath Kylo’s own. Kylo lifts himself slightly, making sure he doesn’t crush Hux uncomfortably, but as he does he gives in to the selfish need for friction, grinding experimentally against Hux’s hip. The catch of his own clothes against Hux’s exposed flesh can’t feel good, but Hux still whimpers as if it does, his eyes fluttering closed for a moment as he draws his knee up and cants his hips towards Kylo.

“Is this what you want?”

Kylo’s own voice is unfamiliar to him, sounding wrecked and low in the space between them. Hux looks up at him steadily, and nods.

“Yes.”

The simple admission undoes something in Kylo, and he has to look away, a desperate sound catching in his throat.

“Let me clean up a bit first,” Kylo manages, trying to find something else to focus on other than the man pinned beneath him. He doesn’t know what to do with this new Hux, or the fact that he’s finding him increasingly attractive.

Hux wriggles his right hand free of Kylo’s grip with ease, and brings it to Kylo’s face, thumb smearing through the mess he left there.

“Okay.”

Given the eagerness with which Hux kissed him, Kylo wonders if Hux might want to clean Kylo’s skin himself, but when Hux says nothing further and doesn’t try to stop him when he moves away, Kylo reaches for the dry towel abandoned on the floor and tidies himself up. A corner that isn’t stained with Hux’s blood quickly becomes dirtied with his cum as Kylo cleans off the drying mess, his mind holding Hux’s admission at a distance. He’s unsure what to do with what he’s been given, and as his attention returns to Hux, Kylo takes in the full length of the man, feeling his heart rate spike as he tries to reconcile what he’s seeing with the man he knows Hux is.

He sits a little awkwardly on the bed, wondering how to proceed, until Hux shifts, his expression creasing.

“Do you not want me?”

Kylo opens his mouth to reply that of course he does, of course he wants this, but something stops him. It seems easier to answer with a kiss.

Hux tastes familiar to him now, although Kylo hasn’t yet learnt what he likes when being kissed as well as he learnt what to do with Hux’s cock. When he’s satisfied that Hux’s question has been answered, Kylo’s attention shifts, his hands moving down over the slender body now beneath him again and his lips moving to kiss the corners of Hux’s mouth. He experiments with the touches he can give, ignoring his own arousal as his attention fixes on Hux, and the small shifts of his body and delicate quickening of his breath with the right caresses. Hux’s neck is amazingly sensitive, and each lick and careful bite drawing a slight tremor and a shaky breath from the General. Kylo is pretty sure he could take what he wants easily and finish the transaction, but he doesn’t know if he will ever have this again, and he wants to savour it. He wants to remember the way Hux reacts to him, and to each changing kiss and lick and gentle bite lavished on his skin. He wants to remember how it feels to have Hux beneath him, almost begging for more with the way he gasps and shifts into each touch. He’s as open as Kylo thinks he will ever be, and that in itself is rare, and beautiful.

Beautiful. Kylo supposes Hux is beautiful. As they shift against each other, working off layers of clothing and exposing more of themselves, Kylo is fascinated by the milky skin that’s so warm and soft against his own, and gives in to the desire to kiss and taste it, moving lower and lavishing attention on Hux’s chest. Hands find their way into his hair, and Kylo pauses for a moment to make sure that Hux’s shirt comes free of his arm without upsetting the bandage, before resuming his exploration. Hux’s nipples are hard, tightening into puckered little buds, and Kylo licks over one while his fingers tease the other, savouring the feel of the only blemish on Hux’s otherwise perfect skin. There’s not a mark on his chest, and as he moves lower still, Kylo presses his nose against the soft line of muscle on Hux’s stomach, nuzzling appreciatively, before returning to tease Hux’s nipple between his teeth. Hux is increasingly vocal in his enjoyment, slowing falling more and more apart. His pants are still around his thighs, boots yet to be removed, and it’s easy for Kylo to see that, despite having cum recently, Hux is growing hard again. His cock twitches and shifts against his thigh, slowly swelling and thickening, and Kylo wants to take it in his hand, feel the warm weight of it.

Neither of them are particularly graceful in removing the last of their clothing. Knees collide as they draw their legs up to tug off calf-high boots, and there’s a tangle of garments and limbs when Kylo pushes his own pants down, the tight material refusing to let go, but eventually they’re both naked, and Kylo presses against Hux, grinding his hips against Hux when a leg wraps around his body, urging him to move closer.

 _There’s nothing but this_ , Kylo thinks as he refocuses his attention on Hux’s neck. It’s hard not to leave marks on such pale, delicate skin, and he focuses on keeping his mouth firm while still being gentle, fingers tracing over the somewhat ticklish ribs that protrude ever so slightly when Hux arches and twists beneath him. There’s nothing but the two of them, Kylo wrapped around Hux and giving all his care and attention, gently teasing Hux apart. The iciness from earlier has disappeared, the frigid barrier cracking and crumbling under Kylo’s touch, and he’s happy to feel it fall away, revealing the all too human man beneath. Hux is warm beneath him, and bucks up and grinds against Kylo, his fingers pressing and clawing at his skin and hair as he tries to draw Kylo closer. His soft, delicate lips part as increasingly unrestrained sighs and moans of pleasure escape him, captivating green eyes alternating between widening and flickering shut in ecstasy. Hux gives in, letting all the chaos and confusion and frustration rise to the surface and linger there, clearly visible and gently being soothed and repurposed by Kylo’s touch. The disorder becomes less cacophonous and starts to fade with each passing kiss and caress, and in its wake, when Hux finally lets go, there’s nothing but a trembling, beautiful man gasping and pleading beneath Kylo, simply reacting to his every movement.

Kylo hasn’t taken anything, as Hux asked him to. Rather, he’s given Hux the chance to let go. He feels somewhat protective, and wants to wrap around Hux, shielding him from the outside world. He knows Hux doesn’t want to be seen like this - as vulnerable and exposed - but it’s also his own selfish desire to prevent anyone from ever seeing this side of Hux: it’s something beautiful Kylo wants to treasure, and keep for himself.

Hux isn’t his, though. This moment could be; but nothing else is.

“Ren,” Hux moans, pleading. For some reason, Kylo doesn’t want Hux to call him that, but he can’t quite find the words to explain himself, so settles for kissing Hux into silence - or as close to silence as can be managed. Hux isn’t the only one slowly falling apart, and the slow, careful touches he’s lavished on Hux’s body have left Kylo painfully hard, his cock weeping against Hux’s skin. He moans hungrily into the kiss, fingers ghosting over Hux’s hair as he grinds down harder than he meant to, trying to find enough friction to ease the growing ache.

Hux lets out a noise close to a whimper at Kylo’s action, thrusting upwards sharply, his own cock trapped in the space between them. He’s trembling, hard and desperate, and Kylo feels himself falling into that space too, the effort of remaining in control too much. He gives in, shifting his hips, testing, trying to find a rhythm. The kiss breaks, the air between them heavy with their quickened breathing, and for a minute they stay like that, clinging to each other and grinding desperately into any touch they can find. It feels so much better when Kylo shifts, pushing his own cock against Hux’s, and he gives a feeble sob, thought threatening to leave him when Hux draws his knees up and wraps his legs tightly around Kylo. When his head falls to Hux’s shoulder, Kylo finds insistent hands pushing and pulling him away, making him lift his head and look at Hux’s open, pleading face.

“Fuck me.”

Kylo crumples under the request, quickly burying his face in Hux’s neck and groaning. He can’t quite still his hips, but he wraps his arms as tightly against Hux’s sides as he can manage, holding the other man to him desperately, aching with need. Even just the thought of it is too much, and he finally stops moving, turning his face to press a kiss to whatever skin he can reach.

“Are you sure?” he dares to ask as he pulls back to look at Hux, hardly believing the request.

“Yes, Ren.”

Any other time, Hux would have perhaps snapped at him, but the insistence is simply firm, and a little impatient. Hux shifts a little beneath Kylo, fixing him with an expression that comes across as both determined and pleading.

“I want you to fuck me.”

The mixture of command and submissiveness is terrifyingly arousing, and Kylo simply nods, at the mercy of whatever Hux wants him to do.

“Okay,” he breathes, leaning in and kissing Hux’s cheek. He moves to his nose, then his other cheek. “Okay,” he repeats. “Do you have anything we can use?”

It takes Hux a moment to answer, because Kylo is kissing him, deeply, a little overwhelmed by the desire burning through him. He’s also afraid of the answer, because he’s been through Hux’s things, and knows that there probably isn’t anything, and he wants this. When he breaks away and lets Hux answer, Hux pushes him off just enough to sit up a fraction and peer over the edge of the bed.

“The med-salve?”

Kylo huffs, a strange noise between relief and laughter, and shifts away from the wonderful warmth of Hux’s body to retrieve the tube of salve he used on Hux’s wounds. Hux moves over on the bed, half turning onto his side and facing Kylo, greeting him with a kiss when Kylo rearranges himself on the rather scratchy blanket. Hux isn’t someone accustomed to allowing himself even the simple pleasures in life. Kylo doesn’t like that. It makes him determined to make this experience as pleasurable as possible.

The salve is just as slick as Kylo remembers it being, and the unmistakable smell of it fills the space between them when he opens the tube and squeezes some onto his fingers. He can’t help glancing at the crisp, neat bandage still wrapped around Hux’s wrist as he does, and he takes a moment to feel guilty for the misuse of medical stock: it should be used to help heal Hux’s wounds, not to… Well, Kylo supposes that this is helping, in a way. It’s is something Hux needs, and is openly asking for.

Slowly drawing his fingers to the tight ring of muscles through a mixture of searching and deliberate teasing, Kylo’s first press causes Hux to stiffen and gasp, his hand gripping tightly at Kylo’s bicep. Kylo feels the muscles twitching, working to relax as his finger presses into the first knuckle, Hux’s body impossibly tight and hot around him. Kylo gives a low murmur, kissing Hux gently and waiting for him to relax which, slowly, Hux does, breath gusting from his nose and over Kylo’s cheek in short, sharp puffs. For a moment Kylo wonders how they’re ever going to fuck, but when Hux has relaxed enough, he pulls out and presses back in, the movement easier this time, and he understands that it will just take patience. Hux is moaning openly into his mouth now, hips shifting and pushing against the intrusion.

It takes a lifetime to slowly open Hux up on his fingers, but one Kylo is glad to spend. Hux gradually takes one finger, then two, and, finally, with the help of more salve, three, at which point Hux becomes a flushed, panting mess, a thin sheen of sweat clinging to his skin from the effort of being stretched and the tension in his body. He shifts between grinding against Kylo’s thigh and fucking back onto his fingers, still amazingly hot and tight but no longer seeming impossible to fuck.

“Ren,” he pleads, the sound of the title making Kylo huff, nuzzling against Hux’s flushed cheek as he finally corrects him.

“Just call me Kylo.”

Hux gives a soft laugh, his mind clearly on more important things than what to call the man in his bed. “Kylo. Ren. Whatever,” he sighs, hands in Kylo’s hair again and using the grip to pull Kylo in for a rough kiss, more teeth and biting than kissing. “Just fuck me.”

Kylo pulls his fingers out, moving out of Hux’s reach as he grabs for the tube of slave again. There’s enough to coat his length, the cool gel making him gasp as it comes into contact with heated skin. Other than rubbing against Hux, Kylo hasn’t touched himself properly yet, and it sends sweet ripples of relief through his body as he slicks himself up, teasing and tugging himself cruelly. He’s not likely to last long, but doesn’t think it matters much, as long as Hux cums first.

As he moves his body over Hux’s, he finds Hux stopping him, a firm hand grasping at his wrist.

“Don’t cum inside me.”

“Okay,” he says simply, perhaps a little disappointed but respecting Hux’s wish. He just hopes that he doesn’t cum too quickly to be able to pull out, which is dangerously likely to happen as Hux lets his wrist go and Kylo lines up, pushing into Hux.

He’s floored by the sensation of it. There aren’t the words to describe the sweet, aching pull of Hux’s body, the heat of it, and the way his muscles tighten and shift around Kylo as he slowly pushes in. He’s panting as if he’s just gone several rounds in the arena, his arms shaking with the effort of holding his weight above Hux, and he wants nothing more than to sink the rest of the way into Hux’s body, collapsing against him and staying there indefinitely. It feels impossibly wonderful, and leaves Kylo trembling.

It leaves Hux trembling too. That realisation helps Kylo focus; helps his attention fix on the purpose of being here, in Hux’s bed, with Hux beneath him, shaking and moaning as Kylo slowly presses another inch into him. When it seems like almost too much for Hux, Kylo leans in, kissing his forehead and cheeks, kissing his eyelids gently and stroking his face, mumbling distractedly and hoping his words are soothing, if they’re even audible over the kisses punctuating them.

“You’re okay. Almost there. I’ve got you, I’ve got you. You’re- I’m nearly… oh fuck! Fuck. You’re so beautiful, Hu- ”

He feels Hux still beneath him, and immediately realises his misstep. Stilling his body completely, Kylo moves back only as far as he absolutely as to in order to look at Hux and apologise.

“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have- ”

“You think I’m beautiful?”

There’s an edge of disbelief to Hux’s tone, his expression hardening. Kylo’s stomach turns at the sight of it, the warmth he’d slowly drawn from the other man seemingly about to disappear.

“I… Yes.”

It doesn’t feel right to try and defend himself. Kylo feels his admission sitting heavily in what little space there is between them, and wishes he’d just kept his mouth shut in the first place. He knows he’s just seconds away from being pushed off and thrown coldly out.

“Even like this?”

He doesn’t need to ask Hux to clarify what he means. Some part of Kylo is crippled by the level of self-doubt, but he reminds himself that people don’t see this side of Hux. They don’t see the man behind the icy permasteel fortress, and those that did, in Hux’s youth, probably ridiculed him for it. Hux has probably been taught that his inner turmoil and all too human desire for attention are weak and unbecoming, to the point where he shuts himself away so tightly it damages him.

Because no one cares.

“Especially like this,” Kylo says softly. He can see Hux trying to read the motives behind his words, but there’s nothing there, just simple honesty.

“You really mean that.”

“I do.”

It’s a strange moment that passes between them, Hux seeming to search for something in Kylo’s expression, and Kylo simply waiting, hoping to be believed. At last, Hux’s expression softens again, the walls that had threatened to be rebuilt receding, and he huffs a short laugh, hand lifting to card through Kylo’s hair.

“I still find you intolerable,” he says firmly. Kylo can’t help smiling, shifting his hips and reminding them both of the intimate position they’re in.

“Fair enough,” he concedes.

Hux seems stunned both by the action and by Kylo’s agreement, and for a moment looks like he’s about to retort, but Kylo leans in, dipping his attention to Hux’s neck and gently sucking on the fragile skin, reducing whatever Hux was going to say to a low moan, warm moan, the sound of it washing over them. The hand gripping at his hair flexes, the touch appreciative, not uncomfortable, and Kylo lets his hips roll gently into Hux again, his cock hardening fully. He can feel that Hux softened too, and lets his hand push between their bodies, wrapping around Hux and stroking him lightly. He’s relieved to hear more grateful noises spill from Hux’s lips, the interlude seemingly forgotten.

And finally - finally - Kylo is buried in Hux as deeply as possible, feeling strong muscles tightening and relaxing wonderfully around the length of his cock. He gives an experimental thrust, finding himself trembling again at the feeling of it, and bites his lip, holding back an admission of how good it feels. Kylo’s starting to realise it’s best to use his mouth in other ways.

Hux’s body feels fluid beneath him, and he shifts and shivers under Kylo’s touch, rearranging his limbs to pull Kylo closer, to make Kylo move faster, and to draw him somehow deeper. It’s when Hux does that, lifting his knees and framing Kylo’s hips with his pale, slender legs, that Hux lets out a sharp cry, his whole body tensing and shaking with the intensity of what Kylo takes a moment to realise is pleasure. When he pushes slowly in again, Hux makes a pleading sound, the arms around Kylo’s neck trying to pull him closer. It seems that, at this angle, Kylo catches something within Hux that feels so good Kylo is almost jealous; only almost, though - he would rather watch Hux shudder and gasp in pleasure, and know he was the cause of it, than experience it himself.

It doesn’t take long before Kylo feels precum against his thumb when he swipes it over the head of Hux’s cock, which has been hard and heavy in his hand for a while now. Caught between Kylo rocking into him and the kisses and bites being littered across his skin, Hux seems unable to think about or focus on anything other than the way he feels, reduced to simply reacting. His attempts to guide and encourage Kylo have faded, and are now little more than a slightly stronger tug at Kylo’s hair, or a shift of his hips accompanied by a differently pitched moan, but Kylo can still read them all the same, learning Hux’s body intimately. Kylo can feel the slow build, and the increasing desperation as Hux wants Kylo to push him further, to fuck him harder. He can feel the need and the urgency in the way Hux shifts beneath him, trying to urge Kylo to give him what he wants. He can feel Hux against and beneath him, and at the same time somehow also within him, Hux’s desire becoming his own.

Kylo gives a broken whimper as he finally lets go, giving in to what they both want and setting a punishing pace, fucking into Hux relentlessly. He can feel the strain in his muscles and the sweat beading on his skin at the physicality of it, and the room is filled with his rough, ragged breathing and Hux’s open, grateful cries. Each snap of Kylo’s hips fucks Hux further into his hand, and he can tell that Hux is on the brink of release. He wants to beg Hux for it, to entreat him to let go. Instead, Kylo leans in, licking over and biting at his favourite spot on Hux’s neck as his thumb teases the frenulum, encouraging with touch what he’s afraid he will ruin with words.

The reaction is almost instantaneous. This time, when he starts to cum, Hux is vocal, moaning and gasping, trembling beneath Kylo, who fucks him through it, his own control held by a tenuous thread. The man beneath him is exceptionally beautiful, his body arching, fiery hair mussed against the pillow, and defenses down as he spills his release between their bodies, smearing both their stomachs with it. Kylo is left feeling broken, taken aback by the force of it, and barely manages to hold himself together through the rhythmic clenching of Hux’s muscles around him before he pulls out abruptly, hand wet with Hux’s cum moving to his own cock as he shakily holds himself above Hux. He brings himself off at last, all the arousal and tension that has been burning through his veins since first opening his mouth for Hux spilling from him with a low, desperate moan.

When Kylo opens his eyes, coming back to himself after the consuming intensity of his release, he’s still trembling, his arm supporting his weight shakily. He looks down at the mix of cum on Hux’s pale skin, which rises and falls with each rapid breath Hux takes, and then, slowly, looks up at Hux’s face, genuinely uncertain as to what he’ll find there.

To his relief, Hux is still relaxed and open, his eyes warm and a vivid green. Carefully, Kylo leans in, and when he’s not rebuffed, he kisses Hux lightly, unable to help smiling when he pulls away. Hux really is beautiful, and Kylo will always know that now. Even if he never sees this again, and the man beneath him disappears behind a uniform and a demeanour of solid ice, Kylo will still know.

Slowly, he lowers himself, coming to rest half on, half off Hux’s still warm body. The chilly air of the room prickles at Kylo’s back, and he hopes that, beneath him, Hux is spared the full effects of it.

“What is it?” he asks after a minute, seeing Hux open and close his mouth several times, looking as if he is going to say something but decides better of it each time.

“Nothing,” Hux dismisses. Kylo knows that’s not the truth, but doesn’t pry. He lets his hand lift to Hux’s shoulder instead, absentmindedly tracing a pattern there.

“Would you like me to get the shower ready for you?”

Kylo was considering offering to leave, but Hux isn’t the kind of person to suffer something he doesn’t wish to, and he’s clearly not uncomfortable, so Kylo assumes that he’s okay here, for a little while longer at least.

Hux takes a moment to answer, shifting his head on the pillow to better look at Kylo before he speaks.

“Do you really think I’m…?”

Kylo smiles, fiercely hoping that Hux is good enough at reading people to know that there’s no malice in it. “Beautiful? Yeah. You have your moments.”

Hux snorts at that, although his cheeks colour subtly.

“I mean it,” Kylo says sincerely. “And I also mean it when I say I understand. The pain. I don’t feel exactly the same thing, and won’t pretend to, but just so you know: you’re not as alone as you think you are.”

For a moment Hux bristles at Kylo’s words, and then he relaxes again, either accepting them or too sated to care about getting riled up.

“You sound like you care.”

“Would it be so strange if I did?”

Hux’s dry smile says that, yes, Hux thinks it would be strange, but the look in his eyes shows a longing for that kind of consideration. It’s something part of him clearly craves, despite the lifetime of conditioning that no doubt told him to let go of the weak desire, and Kylo waits to see which side will win through. Waiting isn’t something he’s very good at, but taking in Hux’s fine features and the now steady rhythm of his breathing makes it easier.

“Everything about you is strange,” Hux eventually decides. It’s not really an answer, but the automatic defenses Hux clings to so fiercely haven’t yet started being rebuilt, so Kylo feels confident that he has a few more minutes of this… whatever this is between them. Even if he’s starting to feel cold, and the mess on his stomach is drying and starting to itch.

“So what about that shower?”

“Am I invited?”

Hux laughs shortly at him. “No, but I think you’ll come anyway.”

“So I am invited?”

“Yes, I suppose.”

Kylo gives a small smile, and then focuses on his hand, drawing it down over Hux’s upper arm, past his elbow, and to the bandage wrapped securely around his forearm. “It’s a shame you don’t have any waterproof binding.”

“I’ll live.”

Kylo doesn’t answer immediately, turning Hux’s arm to inspect the white material, seeing a hint of blood seeping through at a point above one of the deeper cuts. It’s not enough to warrant changing the bandage, but he still frowns at it.

“Will you give me my razor back?”

Kylo keeps his gaze lowered as he nods. “It’s not mine to keep, but…” He shrugs, a little lost as he looks up again. “Well, I know you can’t really stand me, but if this helps, please consider it as an alternative. And if it doesn’t… I’m good at dressing wounds.”

“That I can see.”

It’s the only answer Kylo gets, but he hopes that Hux is seriously considering his offer. Hux’s bed isn’t a bad place to be, and the warm person hidden behind Hux’s frigid exterior is pleasant to be around.

Gingerly, uncertain as to how much intimacy is allowed, Kylo presses a kiss to Hux’s cheek. It isn’t brushed away. Slowly, he untangles himself and starts to rise, thinking about that shower. Hux will just have to keep his arm raised to save the bandage from getting wet.

“You are not entirely intolerable,” Hux says as Kylo stands, starting to pick up the abandoned steri-wrappers, first aid kit, and bloodied towels. He gives Hux a smirk.

“I’m obviously not trying hard enough then.”

Hux snorts at him, sitting up and watching Kylo’s progress as he goes to the ’fresher. Kylo should probably feel more exposed, but can’t find a shred of self-consciousness. Quickly disposing of the rubbish in the waste basket and folding the dirty towels before leaving them on the floor by the door, Kylo turns the water on in the shower, before pulling the remaining clean towel from the cupboard and hanging it out for use. Hux appears in the doorway just as Kylo goes to get him. The mess on his stomach has dried and is flaking slightly, and his hair is alarmingly ruffled for such a well kempt person, but Hux looks as inviting as Kylo thinks it’s possible for anyone to look. He’s all pale skin, long limbs and beautiful lines, everything about him perfect and appealing, from his clear gaze to his now quiescent cock.

“You are rather easy to read,” Hux says, seeming amused rather than annoyed by Kylo’s gaze.

“You prefer me like this?”

Hux hesitates for a moment, remembering something. “You thought I would prefer you as a monster.”

“I meant you’d rather think of me as inhuman.”

Hux gives a low noise of agreement, moving into the room and towards the shower. “I know, and I suppose that I might have done. But now? I prefer you like this.”

Kylo feels something like relief, and perhaps acceptance, at Hux’s admission. It makes him lower his head for a moment, hiding his expression and the small, silly little smile he can’t quite help for a second or two. Hux isn’t really looking, though. as he’s stepping into the shower and letting the spray cascade over his body, injured arm held aloft. It seems like a good time for Kylo to join him, and offer the use of his hands. There’s enough space for them both, if they move carefully, and Kylo presses against Hux’s back, letting his hands run over the slighter man’s chest and stomach with the dual purpose of feeling the contours of his body and helping shift the mess on his skin. It seems a shame to waste the chance to kiss the gentle curve of Hux’s neck, so Kylo give in, gently kissing him there.

“You know this can’t happen outside of here,” Hux reminds him.

“I know,” Kylo says, his lips moving against damp skin. He didn’t think it needed to be spoken, but if Hux feels safer vocalising the agreement, he’s fine with that. “This is just between us.”

“And it doesn’t change anything.”

“Of course not.”

“Good.”

Seemingly satisfied with the terms of their arrangement, Hux turns, facing Kylo.

“If you try to use what happens between us against me in any way, I will kill you.”

Kylo can’t help giving a smirk when Hux presses the matter. “If I used any of this against you, I’d be disappointed if you didn’t kill me.” His expression changes, though, and he regards Hux solemnly. “Seriously, Hux, I wouldn’t hurt you like that.”

The words hang awkwardly between them, Kylo realising a little too late that he’s exposed the fact that he could actually hurt Hux in betraying his trust, and Hux uncomfortable with Kylo knowing that. He doesn’t want people to have that kind of power over him.

Wanting to erase the moment, Kylo wraps his arms around Hux, pressing close against him and kissing his neck gently. The arms still held awkwardly in the air comes down to rest over Kylo’s shoulder, away from the water.

“I liked you on your knees,” Hux openly admits. Kylo smiles to himself.

“Is that a hint?”

“No. Not now, anyway,” Hux dismisses. It seems like he’s just filling the space around them with whatever comes to mind.

“Well I’m not opposed to being there,” Kylo says. He doesn’t expect the laugh his words draw from Hux’s lips. “What’s so funny?”

“I am not opposed to you being there either.”

Kylo tries to shake the feeling that he’s being laughed at.

“I don’t suppose this obedience and willingness to please me will extend beyond my quarters?”

“No,” Kylo confirms.

“I should take full advantage of it when I can then.”

Kylo huffs, smiling slightly in spite of himself. “You should.”

Hux pulls back then, regarding him evenly. His gaze is cool, but not unkind, and far from distant. He’s very much there, in Kylo’s arms.

“Well, I am about to tell you what I want you to do. Listen very carefully. I will not repeat myself.”

Hux smiles as he says it, and a warmth that has nothing to do with the hot shower starts to spread through Kylo’s veins.

“I’m listening.”

And he really is, as if everything depends on it.

**Author's Note:**

>  _Gloriae Imperium_ means 'the Glory of the Empire', and sounds like the kind of book Hux would have in his possession.
> 
> I don't feel like I can say anything.


End file.
